


The Pride of Sussex

by Trickkyy



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Regency, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, M/M, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 07:23:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10212467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trickkyy/pseuds/Trickkyy
Summary: John Watson is an experienced gardener hired to work for the house of Lord Holmes. It takes some time to find his ground and get into the swing of things but is thrown off kilter when introduced to Lord Sherlock Holmes himself.A slow blooming & sweet relationship fic.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short one-shot ;)

John was seated in the corner of a small tavern in the outskirts of Lewes. It had only been several hours since his arrival, giving him ample time to rent out a room for the night and have a wash to prepare for the big interview. Taking a swig of his pint, John scanned the room with a nervous eye - butterflies and maggots chewing on his insides. This was way past his first ever interview, being a hard working and decent man in the fields was a skill that was harboured and rewarded to the young Mr. Watson, racking up a total of three references from his previous employment. It was never his employers that sent John away. It was John wanting to move on, wanting to branch out with his talent that caught his eye in the local paper. 

His foot couldn't stop tapping against the hardwood as his leg shook, and he reflexively reached for his cap, wringing in his hands as if it was drenched in rainwater. Just then the bell above the door chimed and Watson's eyes shot up to be greeted with kind, yet dutiful brown eyes. 

"John Watson?" The man asked, after walking over to the table and outreaching a hand. 

John shot up from the stool he was perched, taking the hand with a wide smile. "Mr. Lestrade, it is an honest pleasure to meet you, sir. Please." he added, gesturing to the stool opposite.

"Thank you." 

John's nerves blossomed even more in the pit of his stomach and he took a hearty sip from the ale in front before gesturing to the barkeep for another pint. 

"So..." Lestrade began, but was interrupted when a pile of papers were pushed into his hand. He looked down at them with a curious glance. 

"My references, sir. All good ones if I might add. I was gardener to Mr. Illis in Ancaster, h-his reference is just at the top there. Mrs. Dauftsburry in a small village outside Maidstone and the late Lord Treeves of Tenterden, may god rest his soul."

Lestrade shuffled through the papers, eyes grazing over the ink before resting back to greet John with an impressed grin. By that time, a second pint of ale was dropped off at the table and Lestrade happily took a swig. "Very impressive references, Mr. Watson, they seem to speak very highly of you." Another sip, "So tell me, how long have you been gardening for the Lords and wealthy?" 

"Well sir, I've learnt under my father. So that would be about.." John paused, mind calculating, "..thirteen years, sir." 

Lestrade raised his brows, "Very impressive once again, Mr. Watson, so you were about...fifteen? When you started?" 

"That would be correct, sir."

"And I've also taken into account your maths skill. I am very impressed with your manners and you, Mr. Watson, when can you start?"

John couldn't help the enormous grin that captured his mouth. "Whenever you need me, sir!" He chirped, feeling the giddy and excited energy pulse through his veins. 

"Excellent! You'll start today." 

~

John was startled when he spotted the sleek black automobile just parked right outside the inn. He had only seen these beautiful and amazing pieces of metal from a distance, and never had the opportunity nor reason to step into one. Life hit him when he realized that Mr. Lestrade was heading right for it, John following behind with a worn leather suitcase. 

"Just attach that on back, Mr. Watson, and we will be heading right off."

"Y-yes sir." He replied, tongue feeling incredibly dry. He fastened the case as best to his ability to the back, hoping and praying that it wouldn't fly right off, and then hesitated by the back car door. 

"Is there a problem?" Lestrade asked, already seated inside the cream leather interior. 

"It's just that I....I...I've never been in one of these before." He blushed, nervous as all hell stepping into something that moves and he can't control. Lestrade let out a loud chuckle, "Then let it be a new experience for you, Mr. Watson! You've already travelled so far, making your way down here to Sussex, I can tell that your a man of adventure - so let this be a new one!" 

John couldn't help but nod at the encouragement and stepped in with a look of awe. The machine was quite astounding and comfortable, especially when he was taking it to his new employment and home. 

"So," he began, eagerly looking out the window once the engine started, "What can you tell me about Lord H.?" 

~

Pulling up the gravel road and past the decorative gate was an experience in itself. John couldn't help but keep his eyes glued to the window and the outside world. When they arrived at the roundabout, just out front the house, John's eyes nearly popped. The house was gorgeous. It was lined with beautiful almost cream coloured stone and garnished with several pillars carved out from it. There were widows that adorned the front and the garden that scattered itself around the house was a palette of colours. 

"So, what do you think?" Lestrade asked beside him, a hint of a smile wrapping it's way into his voice.

"I-it's amazing...." John was nearly speechless when the car came to stop at the front. 

Lestrade opened his door and stepped out, untying John's case from the back and went to open his door. "If you would follow me to the servants quarters, Mr. Watson, I will give you the house tour and share with you the house rules." 

John replied with a nod, tearing himself away his longing stare, and following behind the tall and greying man. When they reached a back door, Lestrade stopped and turned to face him. "This is the servants entrance. You are to use this door when coming and going from outside, also smoking is not permitted within the house, so I ask that if you wish to partake, it will be out here." 

"Yes, sir. But you needn't worry about the smoke sir, I do not indulge in it."

"Very well, this way Mr. Watson." 

John was led through the small doorway and down a quite cozy hallway until they came to two separate windowed doors opposite each other. Lestrade gestured to the one on the left, "This is the men's quarters", before leading them both through to an empty room at the end of that hallway. It was rather small, but John held no complaints for it. In the far corner lay a spring bed with a thin mattress where sheets were properly laid and neatly folded. Next to it there was a small wooden nightstand with a lamp. At the other side of the room, was a very nice oaken dresser that complemented the tiny space.

John's eyes took it all in and a grateful smile formed on his mouth. "This is perfect, Mr. Lestrade, thank you. This is 'bout the best room I've ever stayed - I even have my own window!" 

Lestrade laughed while placing the other man's suitcase down at the foot of his new bed and  turned to him, "I'll give you some time to settle in before a house meeting in the dining room on the..." he pulled out his pocket watch from his vest pocket, "thirteenth hour, see you then Mr. Watson." 

The door closed behind him as he left and John went straight to unpacking his very little belongings. He loaded three shirts and two pairs of working trousers into the dresser, shook out his brown overcoat and then took a look at himself in a very small mirror that was adorned on the wall. 

_Tidy enough_.

John snuck a peek at his own watch before fluffing a hand through his short sandy hair, and followed a small stream of other gentlemen to the servants dining table. 

~ 

"Afternoon, Ladies and Gents. Before we get started on this afternoons chores and preparing for his Lordships return tomorrow morning, we have a new member to our team. May I introduce you all to Mr. Watson." Lestrade stood at the head of a filled table that sat maids, kitchen staff, footmen and several outdoor workers. John stood up from his seat and politely bowed his head with a kind smile. "Mr. Watson will be covering Mr. Briggs' position as head of gardening and outdoor staff," Lestrade continued "He comes to us from a very long journey all the way up North London."

The staff were watching him with widened eyes, and when he noticed that the head butler, Mr.  Lestrade, was watching him as well, he cleared his throat, "T- thank you, Mr. Lestrade, I'm looking forward to get to know you all."

John returned to sitting on his chair and tried to settle his breathing and calm his nerves. It would be his first time directing some of the staff, and that thought was scary enough. He drowned out most of the speech that his superior was instating but then was brought back when the large table was clearing out. 

"Mr. Watson," a man with brown shaggy hair, and the hint of a growing beard, approached him and reached out a hand, "Names Anderson, I'll be part of your shift workers." 

John took his hand and shook, smiling kindly "Pleasure to meet you, Anderson. I'm guessing that you are not the only one who's going to be working under me?"

"Of course not, sir! Davis and Braddock are already outside pulling the weeds." 

"Right. Best we get started then." 

~

Outside, John was already shown the shed where most of the gardening supplies were held. He headed over to the side of the building, where both Davis and Braddock were hunched over a bed of flowers - picking at some small purple weeds.

"Oi, straighten up lads" Anderson called and both men straightened up, dusting off their trousers and outreaching their hands with a wide grin. "The young one here is Braddock, just turned sixteen last winter." Anderson recited, pointing to the young man with bleached blond hair. John shook his dirt soddened hand with a smile, "Very nice to meet you." 

"You too, sir." The young man replied.

Anderson then turned his and John's attention to the older man beside him. Davis looked around to be in his early forties with dark brown cropped hair and his outreached hand was also completely covered in dust and dirt. John took it with no hesitation. "Pleasure to meet you as well, Davis."

"Of course, Mr. Watson." 

John looked at both the man's hands and then took a peek around them to see what it was they were fussing over. "It's seems to be that the Round-Headed Rampion are enjoying our soil." 

Davis let out a laugh, "'Appens every year, these bloody bastards are always shootin' up from the ground all over the place. Bloomin' weeds is all they are."

John shook his head with a grin, "I beg to differ, Mr. Davis, I consider no flower a weed. They are tough and strong plants that take quite a beating but always seem to pull through. I admire them." 

Braddock sent over a toothy grin, "My pa says the same, sir! I-"

"Enough of the chit-chat, Braddock," Anderson cut in, "Lord Holmes will be returning tomorrow and these weeds need to be taken care of." 

Braddock's smile fell from his face and he proceeded to get back to the task at hand, "Yes Mr. Anderson." 

John turned to his second in command with an arched brow, "There's no trouble in a little chat, Anderson."

"Yes of course, Mr. Watson, but this work needs to be completed by the time the Lord returns." 

"Very well," John took a breath and then set his eyes on his other two workers "Do they not have any gloves?"

Both men stopped and turned their hands to face John, "No, sir" they replied in unison.

John shook his head and proceeded to the front door of the manor. Stepping onto the gravel path, leading to the front of the house, he heard a choked sound that made him turn. "Yes, Anderson?"

"Mr. Watson, you are not allowed to enter the front doors. Servants are only able to enter the servants door." 

"Yes but I need to speak with Mr. Lestrade." John continued down the path, edging closer to the doors. He heard quickly paced footsteps behind, and then paused to turn around with a sigh. "Yes, Anderson?"

"Mr. Watson, I warn you that this is against the house rules. Mr. Lestrade will not be pleased." 

"And neither am I. If I am to be charge of you and the other outdoor staff, I require them to function at the best of their ability. Therefore they should be able to work without suffering any injury to their hands. As you well know, Anderson, that hands are the most important tool for a gardener and should be protected to last. These men need gloves." 

He must have said something because his second in command shut his mouth and turned on his heel to head back to work. John marched effortlessly to the front door and pushed it open. "Mr. Lestrade!" he called out into the hallway. The front hall was ornately decorated and a grand staircase pooled out in front just a little ways down, to give those who descended a look of power and prestige. He gawked at the sight before the hurried footsteps on tiled floor reverberated off of the walls and stopped right in front of him. 

"Mr. Watson, what is the meaning of this?" A tinge of anger was present in Lestrade's tone. 

"Me. Lestrade I require to go to town." John spoke up, not faltering. He had to admit that his smaller stature always left him feeling a little intimidated when dealing with those who were taller, but it did not cause him to back down at all. John was short, he would admit it, but he was strong and built, not even remotely close to ever back down.  

"Mr. Watson, may I remind you that it it forbidden by the house to enter through the main doors unless otherwise told." 

John deflated a bit, giving an understanding nod before meeting his superiors eyes once more. "I understand, sir. But please, I must go into town to buy proper working supplies for my men." 

Lestrade shifted and raised a questioning brow, "And what may that be?"

"Gloves, sir. My men have no gloves for their working hands." 

Lestrade gave him a considering look before fishing out some coin and passing it over, "Very well Mr. Watson, I suggest you head over now so you may return while daylight is still with us."

"Thank you sir!" John accepted respectfully, placing the coins in his front trouser pocket before turning to head out whence he came. 

"And Watson?"

John paused, turning toward the other man.

"Next time, follow house rule. Or a scolding will not be the only thing you need to worry about." 

John bowed his head in apology and then returned to his task. Stepping outside into the gravel path once more, he fished his flat cap out from his jacket pocket and secured it on his head before beginning the long trek into town. 

~ 

The sun was already starting to make its way slowly to the horizon when John was walking along the dirt path to home. He had secured a good collection of five pairs of working gloves in his person, thanks to the amount that Lestrade had so generously given him. He checked his watch, noting that dinner would normally be served to the house very soon and he took a deep breath. Living in several different houses, and constantly moving around in order to find a good enough place to settle down permanently, was John's end goal. Only being twenty-eight and having no real inspiration or motive to settle down and marry, was not something he thought of regularly. He wanted a sense of security, but at the same time he wanted excitement. 

It seemed, in his mind, that this position offered just that. 

~

When John entered through the gate and walked back up to the house, the outside staff were already starting to pack up. He smiled to himself as pride swelled in his stomach at the great work they had accomplished. It was a shame he wasn't around to help out, he supposed Anderson was in charge durning his absence. 

John headed over to the shed and loaded the gloves into a bin before he noticed the sacks of pulled weeds. They were, no doubt left aside to be thrown into the forest out back after they dried up, and John took a peek inside anyway. 

The sacks were filled with a mixture of yellow and purple and he almost felt a little disappointed at the waste. Scooping up a handful of them at the base, he grabbed some twine off one of the shelves and tied several purple and yellow flowers in a very small bouquet. He placed them in his front breast pocket, next to his pocket-watch, and fluffed them up so that they rested just peeking out slightly while showing their vibrant colours. 

When he went inside - through the servants entrance this time - and to the dining room, a group of the kitchen staff were just finishing up the cooking and setting the table for the staffs dinner. Anderson was huddled in his seat in the corner next to the fireplace when John walked in. 

"Ah, Mr. Watson!" He greeted, getting up from his seat to offer his hand. 

"Hello, Anderson." 

"And how was your trip into town?"

"Quite relaxing actually," he paused with a quick lean in toward the other man and a hushed voice. "Shouldn't be saying that on my first official day," he chuckled before continuing, "However, I did purchase some work gloves for you and the others." 

"Thank you, Mr. Watson."

"Anderson I would also like to apologise for earlier, you were right and I was acting foolish."

"No need, sir, all is forgiven." 

"Very well." John smiled and then turned to his seat before the others started to flood in. Once Lestrade walked in, everyone rose from their seats in an orderly fashion until he raised his hands for them to be seated. 

During dinner, John was seated between young Braddock and a young maid by the name, Molly Hooper. Molly was quite shy in the beginning, but once John cracked some jokes and told her some tales of his past employers, she warmed up to him rather quickly. When the table was cleared, they all rose once again to Lestrade's departing words of 'goodnight'. 

John stayed awhile, talking to the lads for a while before also bidding them goodnight. When he reached his room, he slid the cloth drape over the window and changed to his smalls, draping his work clothing over the single chair in his room. When he fell into bed, it was more comfortable then it looked, and far more so then the other beds he was made to sleep. He only needed to adjust himself once before the calling of night sent him his dreams. 

~

04:30

John was already programmed to wake at the exact time every single day, thanks to the same roundabout schedule of his past employment. He wasted no time pulling on yesterday's trousers, lacing up his brown boots, Buttoning up his shirt and securing his vest. He stopped at the kitchens for a quick slice of bread and cheese that the head cook, Mrs. Lansbury, had set out for the servants breakfast. He made no stops, except to grab a lantern before heading over to the outside shed. He was organizing the tools and prepping for the gardening day when he reached for his watch to check the time and his fingers brushed against dry petals. 

Of course!

With a small grin, John grabbed hold of the small bouquet he made the other day and twirled it in his fingers. They were still quite beautiful, regardless of their dwindling form. He tossed them back in the sack, silently chastising himself about neglecting to put them in water, and then reached for his watch once more. 

05:00

The others should be up by now. With that thought, the slow stream of bodies headed toward the shed and Anderson, Davis and Braddock said their morning greetings.

"Mr. Watson, if I may remind you that Lord Holmes will be retuning home today."

John nodded, handing each man a pair of good quality gardening leather gloves. Braddock was frozen in awe, "Are these for us, sir?" 

"Mhm, can't do proper work if your hands are all cut up from the rose garden, now can you?" 

"No, sir!" Braddock smiled, flexing his fingers as the new leather stretched around them. John couldn't help the accomplished grin on his face from the men's praise and readiness to start the day. John assigned Davis to rake the mulch in the rose beds, Braddock to sweep the stones around the white gazebo out back, and Anderson to snip the heads off any dead buds. Once his workers schedules were planned and they headed off, John folded up three large knit sacks and headed out to deal with the 'weeds'.

~ 

The sun was already being unkind as it settled itself in the sky. John took a second to pull off a glove and his cap to wipe a hand across his brow. He fanned himself with his cap and sent a wave Anderson's way, before the sound of an engine caused him to turn to the source.

Another slick black automobile was headed down the gravel road, but this time it was a lot more regal looking. The front hood was stretched further, and it looked to only have two doors on the side rather than four. John couldn't help staring as the car gradually made its way up the gravel path to stop directly at the front of the house. A young man appeared from the drivers door; he wore a beige driving cap, a white baggy cloth shirt that had flowing sleeves, a cream coloured vest that procured his lithe frame, and matching cream coloured breeches with black riding boots. John had to admit that the young man looked quite stunning, his dark hair and pale skin contrasting against the warm tones of his outfit. 

It was then when the figure of Lestrade greeted the other man with a bow of his head and called two other footmen to deal with the luggage. John guessed that there were words between the two men and then realized those two figures were walking in his direction. John quickly went back to picking at a few wildflowers that hugged the fronts of his boots, in an attempt to cover up his intrusion. 

"Watson." He heard Lestrade call over. John straightened up, brushing the lose dirt from his trousers. 

The two men neared and John reflexively removed his cap, eyes squinting from the light, as he held it up to his chest. 

"This is John Watson, my Lord, he will be replacing Mr. Briggs as head gardener."

John had to admit, when he sent a kind smile his Lordships way, the man had quite breath-taking eyes. They were a mixture of green and blue that caught his attention right away and John had to pull back his attention, making sure to bow his head. "Good morning, my Lord." 

John kept his eyes plastered to the ground but when silence lingered between the three of them, he snuck a glance up. Lord Holmes was eyeing him, pupils roaming up and down his body with slightly creased brows. John tired very hard not to blush under the awkward gaze, but failed. 

"Very nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. Watson. I'm very much looking forward to seeing your work." 

His voice was deep and baritone that John could admit he did find rather attractive. Making sure to give proper introduction once again, he proceeded to do a small bow with a smile. 

As if being excused, Lord Holmes turned to Lestrade, nodded and then turned to head back to the front of the manor. John watched him approach a young driver who went to park his car, before heading inside.

Lestrade cleared his throat.

"Back to work, Watson." He smiled, and left.

~

Lunch-time came and John headed over to weed out the gazebo out back, noticing Braddock on his hands and knees with a bucket of soapy water, washing the planked floors. "That enough, Braddock, take your break." 

"Are you sure, Mr.Watson?" 

"Of course," he smiled "go on then, I'll cover 'till you get back." 

"Thank you, sir." Braddock beamed, organizing his workspace and running off to the servants entrance. 

John set his bags of pulled flowers down and peeled his gloves off, throwing them on top. He grabbed the bucket and brush and stared to scrub where his young worker had left off. He couldn't even tell that someone had approached behind him until he heard the sound of light boots on wood. It must have been Anderson, John suspected, "Finished your work already, man? There's more work..." he went to look over his shoulder and then froze. Standing regally and in new flattering attire, stood Lord Holmes, hands plastered on his hips and his head cocked slightly to the side. 

John shot up to his feet, reaching for his hat once again and taking a bow "My Lord, I was not aware that it was you. I thought An-"

"Anderson. Mr. Watson may I inform you that Anderson is anything but efficient. He's slow and struggles to impress by his work."

John was annoyed at the comments that were being made about his worker. So far, Anderson was more than capable at his job and even more so as his right hand. "I will be the one to judge that, my Lord. Now if you will excuse me, I must return to work." John bowed his head again and situated himself back on his hands and knees to resume scrubbing. 

Nerves enveloped him when he realized what he said and how he said it. John cursed his wit and attitude and shut his eyes, hoping his new employer would not fire him on the spot after only his second day. _Damn it Watson!_

There was silence that hung in the air like thick fog and then the sound of retreating footsteps. John took a shaky breath and then stopped his work, turning over to land on his arse and wiping  his forehead with the back of his hand. So much for first impressions.

The minutes passed by so quickly before Braddock re-appeared at the steps of the gazebo. "Thank you for covering, sir." He smiled and accepted the bucket happily with an outreached hand. John instructed him on the next several tasks before hoisting up the flower bags and returning them to the shed. 

~

Anderson was already at the shed, bag full of dead blooms as his feet, returning his equipment and grabbing shears. John dropped his sacks and patted the other man on the back. "Great job there Anderson."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Watson. I'm just going to trim the hedging out front." 

"Excellent" John smiled "Don't forget to take your break as well." 

"Will do!" The other man replied with a quick nod and headed to his next station. 

John looked down at his feet at three full bags of plant scraps and came up with an excellent idea. During his past employment, John had made systems - which he learned from past experience - and decided to start it once again.

A composting system.

Now John only needed fresh dirt, worms, wood and.....John held his breath at the realization. This is the one thing he dreaded - stomach already doing somersaults. 

Permission.

~

John had attempted to make himself at least a tad presentable; sticking one of the small purple round-headed rampions in his breast pocket. He even managed to sod his handkerchief: wiping the sweat on his forehead, and the dirt in between his fingers. Removing his cap to brush a hand through his short sandy hair, John knocked on Mr. Lestrade's office door. 

"Enter." He heard on the other side, and he pushed open the door to stand in front of a small desk, hands clasped together at his back. "Ah, John."

"Mr. Lestrade" he greeted with a smile.

"What can I do for you?"

"I have a proposition for Lord Holmes." 

Lestrade eyed him warily before grunting - a sign for John to continue.

"Since the dead buds and picked flowers and weeds are just thrown in the forest out back anyway, I was thinking instead we should set up a compost system. That way, we can have richer soil for turning over next spring."

_And possibly start a vegetable garden_ , John thought. 

There was something about mending and keeping vegetable gardens that always seemed to please him. Maybe it was the solitude of being able to tend to it on ones own, or just the idea of watching hard work turn into something so beneficial as food. Either way, John would have to approach these two subjects during different times, as he was still unaware how his lordship would take to such things.

"I would have to run it by-"

"I-I would like to do it, sir."

"What?" 

John cleared his throat and continued, "If I may, Mr. Lestrade, I would like to be the one to discuss it with his Lordship. I am head gardener, as is my position and it would be more beneficial if I were to one to approach the subject." He paused before adding, "Sir." 

Lestrade leaned further back into his chair, face running over different scenarios as it contorted to his thinking. John tried very hard to hold back a snicker at the man's twisted lip. "Very well." 

John's eyes widened and a large smile engrossed his mouth. "Thank you, Mr.Lestrade!"

Lestrade raised his hands up with a grin, "Don't thank me yet, Mr. Watson." He rose from his seat and opened up his office door. Once John exited, Lestrade followed and went toward the stairs, "You can wait in the dining quarters, I'll come to get you if he requests an audience." With that, they sent each other a brief nod and John went to the dining area, taking a seat beside his new friend Molly. 

"Fancy seeing you here, Molly." He smiled.

"Oh hello Mr. Watson!" 

John couldn't help but notice the small towel that was balled up and held against the palm of her hand. He pointed to it and saw her expression instantly change - from a kind smile to a frown. 

"What happened?" He asked, shifting slightly closer to take a look.

"Just burned it on the poker lighting a fire in the library for his Lordship. It's nothing to worry about." She replied timidly, attempting to brush off the subject.

"Let me see." John held out his hand on the table and Molly just looked at it, eyes widening slightly before looking back at her hand. 

"It's ok, Mr. Watson, no need to fuss." 

"Please." 

Molly lost the battle and slowly laid her hand in his, watching as John removed the wet ball of ice that was wrapped in cloth, to examine her hand. He gently brushed a finger over it to test her reaction and she flinched a little. Not terrible, he thought. When John arose from his chair Molly was startled a little bit then looked at him questioningly.

"I'll be right back." He said, walking toward the entryway "I have something that will ease the burn." 

~

When John returned, he had a small vial in hand with a cork secured in the lip. He pulled it off and then dipped a finger in, smearing it over the red blotch that was starting to blister. 

"What is that?" 

"A lavender and oil mix." 

She eyed him skeptically.

"Trust me, I've used it before. My uncle was a doctor. He showed me tricks that could pass as homemade remedies for incidents such as this" he chuckled. "Now," John reached for a clean cloth that was situated on the towel and gently wrapped it around Molly's hand, tying it gently in place, "Make sure not to burn you other hand, alright? And I want that to be made a promise, Miss." 

Molly giggled, covering her mouth with her other hand as her cheeks blushed a pretty pink. "I will try my best, Mr. Watson-"

"John."

"J-John. Thank you." 

"You're welcome -"

"Watson." 

John turned to the voice from behind, and was greeted by the kind face of Lestrade. "His Lordship will speak with you in the drawing room." 

John lit up like a Christmas tree, but at the same time his stomach rolled. This was it. The chance to prove himself in this household and to himself. 

_To battle._

~

"Come in." 

John's fist was frozen at the door, just about to knock. Lord Holmes must have been a bloodhound in his past life, John thought, wondering how in the world that man was able to hear him approach. 

Turning the latch and pushing the door open exposed the decorative and beautiful drawing room. John tried not to gape at the sight but must of failed when he noticed the smirk that rose on his employers face. Lord Holmes was sprawled out on a ornate cushioned love seat that was edged with gold trim and garnished with stitched in vines. His hair was now free from the cap he wore earlier and it sat like a curly black crown on his head. 

John had to swallow the mass that had blocked his throat before reminding himself to stand up straight, placing his hands behind his back. 

"A weed." Holmes commented, pushing himself up to sit upright, long legs folding over one another. 

"S-sorry?" 

Lord Holmes pointed to John's chest and he followed it to the little purple bloom that was still nestled in his breast pocket. 

"If I wasn't currently aware that you took on the position of a worker, I would assume a gesture such as that, insulting." 

"M-my Lord?"

"Weeds, Mr. Watson, are leeches of the Earth. They fester and breed, covering the grass and polluting the soil with their seed. You could almost compare them to roaches."

John felt a small trail of sweat form on his brow and he forced himself to stop his hands shaking.  He could almost see a hint of glee in the other man's eyes at his feeble state, almost as if a hunter setting up a snare for their prey. John cleared his throat, tamping down his self-consciousness, 

"I beg to differ, my Lord." 

Holmes raised a brow in question, as if allowing John to continue. 

"Weeds are survivors of the Earth. They are tough little buggers that adapt and fight back with all their worth, just to get a bit of sun on their petals. You could chop off their blooms and crush them under you boots, but they'll just grow right back." 

Holmes hummed, eyeing him with narrowed lids before speaking. "An interesting take and such an inspiring speech, Mr. Watson. The flower committee would be glad to have you." 

John let a scowl form on his lips, and he puffed up his chest a little at the comment made to make fun of him. "And I too would be more than honoured to speak at their table, however, I am currently held up in employment elsewhere." 

His Lordships lips twitched and he leaned further back in the coach, titling his chin higher, "I sense a tinge of attitude from your tone, Mr. Watson." 

John deflated instantly, "M-my apologies my Lord! I did not mean.....I spoke out of place....f-forgive me." 

Holmes raised a hand to silence him and then rested it under his chin, "Lestrade told me you've come to make a proposition." 

John nodded vigorously before he lowered his head and glued his eyes to the floor in resignation. "Y-yes, my Lord." 

"Well," Holmes shifted so that both feet were planted on the ground, and hands meeting together in his lap. "Go on." 

John cleared his throat, risking a glance at the other man who held a sort of playful grin on his face. He could have sworn the fire in the room raised the temperature even further, and he tugged at his collar a little, "I-I was wondering - that is, if your Lordship permits it - to start a compost barrel." 

"And what would the reasons of having a compost barrel, Mr. Watson?"

"W-well, my Lord, it helps to turn the soil every spring and if it's fresh and rich, it's beneficial for the plants." 

Holmes gave him a sideways look and then his expression turned to a look of knowing. John swallowed hard and took to staring at the floor again, drilling holes in it with his eyes. 

"Did that idea come to you before or after you were going to propose a vegetable garden?" 

"M-my Lord?"

"No need to play dumb with me, Mr.Watson." His Lordship rose from his seat and deftly walked over to stand in front of the shorter man. John couldn't help but breathe in the sweet smell of honey, smoke and a hint of lavender. "I am many things, but one this I am not... is unobservant..."

"I-I am in no means attempting to push in my audience with you." 

"Of course." 

"I am sorry, my Lord." John bowed slightly feeling utterly embarrassed. "If only one pursuit is permitted, I will be thankful." 

"And so you should be." Sherlock marched over to the buffet table and scooped in two teaspoons of sugar into a cup, before adding the dark liquid. John assumed it was either tea or coffee. 

Coffee.

"I will accept the system you wish to set up in regards to your soil issues, however, I am not in need of a garden, Mr. Watson." 

John sucked in a breath and turned to face his employer, standing up taller and ready to defend his position. "It would be beneficial to the cooks and your money, my Lord!"

"Not only are you commendable but stubborn as well" Holmes laughed, taking a sip from his cup and returning to sit on the couch. 

John bit his tongue at the comment and cursed himself under his breath. He had to stop pushing, had to stop. Or it wouldn't just be the garden that would be pushed aside...it would be him.

"My apologies again, my Lord. I have overstepped my bounds plenty during this meeting." John bowed again toward the seated man who's lips were slightly raised in one corner, "I will return to my duties. Thank you for allowing me the compost system." 

Without another word, Lestrade walked into the room and held the door as John passed through and proceeded down the servants stairs and out the servants door. It was time he best get started on his new project...even if he was slightly disappointed about the other. 

~

Already John was starting a routine. Being at the house for quite a while, John was now becoming a regular hoot at the dining table and in the yard. Almost all of the workers around the house knew him, even if they only had met him once due to their shifting schedules, and there was no ill talk that he knew of.  

Once given permission from his Lordship on that dreadfully awkward day, John had started his well thought out system, constructing a large barrel right beside the shed that he encouraged his workers to throw away all of the dead and dry waste from the day. During the rest of the summer months were the busiest and during the winter months, well....work was very slow. It was then when the gardeners were responsible for dealing with the snow out the front, clearing pathways for motor vehicles, and collecting wood for the house. 

John had also found that most of his time was spent indoors - which he found got very tiring and boring the longer he was kept inside. Sure, he would pass the time with a good book when he wasn't out in the forest cutting down spruce, or even have a nice pot of tea with some of the maids who could spare five minutes of their time. Overall, winter itself was quite drab.

It was, however, also the time where John would see a lot more of his Lordship, which he would admit...he didn't mind one bit. 

When he would bring in stacks of logs with his crew for the fires around the house, Molly would always politely ask if they could carry them up and set them in the fireplaces. Of course, only the rooms that his Lordship would occupy for days on end. His study, the library, and his quarters - which John never had the opportunity to sneak a peak in, as Davis was always the one to deliver them. 

~

One afternoon in February after the hint of a cold spell, John carried logs into the study and carefully lit a fire, taking a second to warm up his numb fingers and rub his hands together. The warmth was comforting and something he envied every time he went to bed. Since none of the servants rooms had any form of heating, they were faced to bundle up with warm blankets, which was lovely - but would be torture first thing in the morning when needing to peel yourself away and get dressed. 

"I see you've decided to take a break in my office, Mr. Watson." 

John jumped at the baritone voice behind him and quickly shuffled to turn around and bow his head in resignation. "Apologies, my Lord. I was not aware that your were present." 

Holmes emerged from the shadows in the back of the room and walked over, hands placed behind his back. "No bother." 

When John looked up, he hadn't noticed he was gaping. His Lordship was clad in black trousers, a white button up and draped over his shoulders was a woollen blood red dressing gown. He looked regal and proper even without the orderly attire he was always seen wearing. He must have been staring too long because he didn't even realize that Lord Holmes was standing only two feet away. 

"It's such a pity that you cannot sport colourful weeds in your pockets anymore, Watson. I did enjoy guessing which flower was bound to your breast." 

John swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing and he risked a glance at the other man's eyes. "S-spring is soon on its way, my Lord, you needn't wait too long." He froze. _Did he just flirt with his Lordship?_ His face heated instantly and he would reach to loosen the collar of his shirt if he wasn't so worried about what meaning it could imply. 

It was not odd for Lords and Ladies to take on lovers, especially those of the same sex. In fact, it was pretty normal. At his last area of employment, the master of the house had one of his footman taken on as one, Timmothy was his name. He was a kind and considerate man who would talk on a regular basis about how his Lordship would treat him well. It was later on that their relationship bloomed and Timmothy was no longer a footman, but engaged to the Lord of the house. They were to be wed this spring before a sickness consumed the master and he passed away. Timmothy took over the house then, after it was turned over to him in the will. He decided to let go most of the workers as he had no need of them, and wanted them to move on. He had no issues in giving them all well deserved references before locking the doors of the house in a wave of depression. 

"Lucky me." Holmes piped in, cutting through John's wandering mind and bringing him back to the present. 

"I....uh....yes, I suppose so, my Lord..." he wanted to add: _not as lucky as me, being able to see you like this_ , but thought better of it and scolded himself.

Clearing his throat, he aimed to change the subject. "Will that be all, my Lord?" 

"There is one thing I must ask, Watson." 

"Yes, my Lord?" 

"The purple weed. Phyteuma Orbiculare, or 'Round-Headed Rampion' as others call it. What was the name I overheard you say to your young worker?" 

"Pride of Sussex, my Lord." 

"What an odd name for such a small flower. Although, going by my fields in the summer, I will agree that they surely show their pride by popping up everywhere about the lawn."

John chuckled and nodded his head, a fond smile finding its way on his lips. "I do agree with you on that, my Lord. Cocky little bastards they are." 

"I guess I should be calling you that, shouldn't I? The Pride of Sussex." 

John flushed at the comment and his eyes widened as Holmes' eyes darkened. _Definitely a lot of flirting_. 

"If you wish it." He whispered, voice gone slightly rougher and lower and John nearly shocked himself at his change. But he was tempting, very tempting indeed when he would bite the bottom lip of that perfect mouth, Cupid's bow that could seduce the gods themselves. 

"Very well. Good day, Mr. Watson." 

John was even more started on how his Lordship brushed him off and regained composure, turning to his paper ridden desk, with a twirl from his dressing gown. The gardener wasted no time collecting himself and setting out through the door. This Holmes was a difficult one to read. A difficult one indeed. 

~

When spring came, the house flowed once again. Everyone kept busy doing their daily duties, and John was happier now that he could return to the outdoors, free of snow but not scarce of rain. 

He had just finished up dumping a sack full of dead branches and dried twigs into the compost barrel, when he noticed a little purple head peeking up from the sea of green. He smiled down at it, remembering the comment his Lordship had made that one winter afternoon, and picked it - placing the little beauty in his breast pocket. 

When he took his break, John snuck a sheet of paper and a pen from Lestrade's table in the dining room, and set to write a little poem. Once done, he folded the paper several times into a little square with a tiny opening, and placed the little purple flower in it. He was just about to set out and find his favourite maid, when Molly walked right into him.

"John! I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there!" 

John laughed, waving his hands in front, "Its no problem Molly, in fact, you were just the person I wanted to see." 

"Oh?" Molly eyed him suspiciously with a raised brow. 

"I need you to give this to his Lordship." He said, pushing the small parchment into her palm and closing her fingers around it. 

"But John I might get in trouble, I'm not to seek out his Lordship unless summoned. Why not ask Mr. Lestrade to do it?" 

"I can't Molly. You see, this is of utter most importance and you are the most dependable girl I know." 

Molly blushed at the praise and her expression shifted, taking the time to reconsider. 

"Please, Molly. I'll owe you big time, I swear." 

"Promise?" 

"I promise, cross my heart." 

She giggled, slipping the paper into her apron, "There is no need for all that crossing. I'll see what I can do, alright?" 

John could have jumped in excitement but instead pulled Molly in and gave her a big ol' smooch on the cheek. Her face couldn't have turned a darker red at the gesture, and she nodded at him before disappearing up the steps.  

~

_No matter how fast the days go by._

_You are the only image I see behind closed eyes._

_Like a flower in bloom._

_You open up the skies at night, just like the moon._

_\- JW_

It was a dreadful poem. Complete rubbish, and John knew it. Being a romantic at heart was difficult when what he was feeling inside could barely be put into words. They had both become closer that winter, always bumping into each other - of course, none of those were brought on by John....obviously. And then their little comments would lead to flirting, or at least John thought it was flirting. Then, John would hate to admit that he spent a lot of time looking into those gorgeous eyes and lose himself within them. 

A sinking feeling and bud of doubt nestled itself in the back of his mind. What if it wasn't flirting, what if John was misinterpreting their little run-ins. Most importantly, what if it was a little fling and his feelings wouldn't be reciprocated. 

To distract himself from thinking it was a good idea, John headed outside to get a bit of work around the gazebo done before the rain. Taking a peek at the sky above, grey clouds were already starting he threaten the blue. John sighed, scratching at a flake of dried paint that was already starting to peel. _This is going to need a touch up._

He heard the treading of footsteps on the grass when he turned to be faced with none other than Lord Holmes himself. He was finely dressed in a dark grey suit that matched the sky but stood out like a beautiful pale beacon. John was at a loss for words, especially not expecting to be visited by the one and only. 

Then he noticed it.

The small parchment that was held in the other man's grip. John blanched at the sight and his stomach rolled in regret. "Nice day." He croaked, pulling at the sleeves of his brown coat. 

"Indeed." 

There was a pause of awkwardness that settled between them before Holmes spoke up. "I got your-" 

Thunder cracked through the sky and the rain followed soon after. The wind picked up and pushed at their bodies. John had to grip the side fencing of the gazebo while Lord Holmes steadied himself on the steps. With all that wind, the small roof could not aid in blocking the spray that hit them in all directions. 

John was ready to charge to the house, but it was rather far away and both men would be drenched to the bone if they tried to run for it. It was then when he spotted the shed. It was a little distance, yes, but a lot closer than the house.

The gardener didn't hesitate to pull of his coat and throw it over the other man's head. There was a slight noise of protest from Holmes, but John paid no attention, grabbing his hand and running toward the wooden shed.

He charged at the door, crashing through, and halted once inside. John definitely misjudged their speed. Not even a second later, the taller man rammed against his back, pushing him forward, and causing John to trip over some ceramic pots, before landing face first on the ground. His Lordship didn't have a choice in the matter either, following suit and landing right on top.

"Oof!"

"My apologies." Holmes said, shuffling to try and gain his bearings. 

John had tried but couldn't hold back a laugh as he watched the flustered man try to compose himself; adjusting his jacket once he managed to stand on two feet. His stomach hurt too much to move and he leaned up on his elbows to watch the act. 

Lord Holmes just looked at him then with irritation and a hint of something he couldn't place. It wasn't until a baritone and deep chuckle rose up into the confines of the shed, that John finally got to witness and hear his Lordship laugh. It was sweet, perfect and above all absolutely adorable, and he grinned to himself that he was the lucky one. 

"Do you always trip over your own feet?" Holmes giggled, raising a hand to wipe at his teary eyes.

"Well I tend to fall head over heels when struck by an angel." John smiled sweetly.

Lord Holmes froze in place, eyes blinking rapidly several times. 

John on the other hand, managed to also get on his feet, dusting off his coat before looking up to be greeted by those piercing eyes. "I uh...." a clearing of the throat, "Well..you are ....you're beautiful..." 

Blink. Blink.

This was it. He was a complete idiot and fool. Why would he say that? Why would he think that more flirting would be a good thing at this very moment. And then calling him beautiful?! The man, of course, was gorgeous. But here. In a shed? Soaking wet? He must have gone mad. Completely and utterly mad. 

What hit him next was no wind, because that would have been ridiculous, nor was it an object being thrown at him. It was in fact a body. A very tall and lean body that jumped toward him and made him stagger back. After catching himself on the bench that was right behind, John then realized the crushing pressure on his lips and the fluttering of his lashes with the warmth that followed soon after. 

It was amazing, it was fantastic, it was....perfect. 

It was also over way too soon. 

Holmes pulled back so that their foreheads were touching, "John," he whispered and John's heart skipped at beat at hearing his name pass those now flushed and plump lips. 

"My Lord.." he replied, eyes still glued to the other man's mouth in anticipation. 

"S-Sherlock.."

John pulled back, "Pardon?"

"My name is Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes." 

"Sherlock." He tested on his tongue and found that he quite liked the name. It was alluring and unique, just like the man who stood before him. 

"John...I..." 

"Yes..?" 

Sherlock released his hold on the lapels of John's coat and went fishing in his pockets for something. Once he found it, he held up a small square of parchment. 

Ah. 

"I wanted to tell you sooner...but of course we were distracted." He flipped the page open and smiled down at it. 

John flushed instantly. "Well...I-uh..its" 

"You even added a little friend." Sherlock dug into his inner pocket and fished out the small purple weed. 

"I thought you would like it..." 

"I do." 

The rain hitting the wood paneling outside, drowned out the silence of the small confined space and the two men just remained standing where they were. John was uncertain what to do, waiting for Sherlock to make the first move. What were they? What was their relationship now? 

"I would like-" Sherlock murmured but was cut off when the door swung open with a crash, hitting against the wall. Young Braddock was sporting a rain jacket with another one in hand. 

"My Lord! Some workers spotted you running in here to get away from the rain, I've come to retrieve you, sir!" 

John's head fell in embarrassment and he couldn't help but smile at the fact that Sherlock's taller figure had completely blocked him from view. 

"Have you come for me too?" John joked, waving a hand at the young man who's eyes widened instantly. 

"Mr. Watson! Anderson never mentioned he saw you run here as well! I'm sorry sir, but I only have one jacket." 

"No bother" John grinned, maneuvering past the taller man to stand in front of Braddock. He grabbed the coat and held it out to Sherlock, "You better put it on." The other man did, but not without voicing his displeasure, "But what about you?" 

"It's only a little bit of water." 

"Are we ready, sir?" Young Braddock asked, positioning himself at the door and ready to book it.

John went to grab for Sherlock's hand, holding onto it tightly. He looked up with a playful grin when the other man met his eyes. "Ready." 

Braddock raced down the yard without pause as a crack of lighting ripped through the sky. "Go!" John yelled with a laugh and they both bolted in the same direction. 

~

When they made it back to the house, unfortunately it was the servants door that was the closest. Once Sherlock had stepped over the threshold, everyone was greeting him warmly and standing at attention. 

One thing John saw, that he couldn't help but keep the smile off of his face, was how kind Lord Holmes actually was. Of course, there were those that earned an eye roll, but for others (and most of them) there was a warm smile and polite 'hello's' and 'thank you's'. 

His adoring look didn't last too long before Sherlock was pulled from his sights; in order to get on dry clothes and warm up by the fire in his room. So John went to his own quarters, removing his drenched attire to put on a very loose cotton shirt and brown trousers. He wrapped himself in several blankets and then fetched a book from his small collection.

Regardless of the weather outside, and ignoring the large hits of rain against his small window, John was very pleased on how this day turned out. Was was even more pleased that he wasn't made to feel a fool and the hopes that Lords Holmes....Sherlock, had liked him back was well....brilliant.

His thoughts were disturbed by a soft knocking at the door and he made no fuss to open it. "Oh, Molly, hello!"

"Hello, John," she smiled "I just wanted to see how you doing. I've brought some soup for you, hopefully to warm you up a bit."

John opened the door wider to let her in and carefully grabbed the tray of food, placing in on the chair by his bed. "This is very kind, Molly, thank you."

She nodded and headed out the door, smiling over her shoulder before closing it behind her. 

John sat on his bed and spooned in a mouthful, savouring the heat as it passed his lips. Vegetable. His favourite. 

John rolled his eyes when he heard another knock at his door. "Come on it!" He called out, ripping a piece of bread and plopping it in his mouth just as Lestrade entered.

"Mr. Lestrade!" 

"Nice weather we're having." The older man chuckled, taking a look out the window with a smile.

"Only the best. What can I do for you, sir?"

"Lord Holmes wishes to speak with you." 

~

"Come in."

John's head hit the door and a laugh rumbled through his chest. Of course he heard me. When he opened it, Sherlock was positioned at the window, back facing him and hands clasped behind him. 

"You have ears like a fox."

"Very wise choice of words, John." There was smile in his voice before he turned around and there it was, shining eyes and all. 

"And why's that?"

"Because.." Sherlock slowly walked toward him, smile widening with each step. "...any other animal choice could have been interpreted as having pointy ears."

John couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up and consumed the room around. It was certainly contagious enough when Sherlock was joining in. When he finally reached him, John wrapped his arms around the taller man's waist and tilted his head up to stare at that perfect smile. "Well, then you would have interpreted it wrong, because your ears are lovely. In fact..." John slid his hand up to the nape of Sherlock's neck, pulling him down so that their noses brushed. "..All of you is perfect." 

"Are you so positive in your deductions, Mr. Watson?"

"As positive as I ever will be.." John raised up his chin and locked there lips together. The kiss was sweet and intimate and when Sherlock pulled back, his cheeks were so beautifully blushed pink. 

"John.."

"Yes?"

"I um....I was wondering....if..."

A small smile played on the gardeners lips at the sight of his Lordship stumbling with words. "Go on."

"I want to be with you." 

The smile dropped and John froze. _Be with me...?_   "You mean...."

"I want you to be my lover, John...."

It would be a change. Definitely a change. John would be allowed in the main house full time, would be given a proper room, would be allowed to sit and eat with his Lordship when guests weren't about the house. But his livelihood would change....no more outdoor work or major manual labour....no more 'John Watson'. 

John stepped back from the embrace and Sherlock looked to him with worried eyes and rows of wrinkles on his forehead that John wished to kiss away. "I....."

"You would miss it. The work." 

John nodded.

"You could still do it...if you wished..."

Sherlock took a step forward, still keeping distance, but wanting to be closer. "John, I want to really get to know you. To see the real you and be with that person. I think about you more than I care to admit, but I would have it no other way. I care for you, John Watson, and if the work is still what you wish then you can have it."

John let out an empty laugh, "You make me sound heartless." 

"No" Sherlock took several steps forward and gently placed both his hands on the other man's shoulders, "Anything but. You are a caring and loving man, nothing less." 

"I will." 

"What?"

"I will be your lover, Sherlock Holmes." The name sounding like gold on his tongue, "Because there is no other place on this green Earth that I would rather be, nor any other person I wouldn't mind to spend my waking hours with."

The smile that appeared on Sherlocks face could have stopped all of the clocks in London. John's heart swelled in his chest and he pulled the man down into a heated and flooding kiss that set his blood on fire. 

They wasted no time pulling at their clothes and dropping on the large mattress that John had maneuvered them to. Raging moans and heated cries filled the room and John could have come alone from the ways in which his name poured from his new lovers gaping mouth. 

It wasn't the first time John had welcomed a man into his bed, but they were not like this. This was a feeling he had never felt before, like his heart was owned by the man who lay before him now, like it was taken. And it was. 

"Oh, Sherlock...you _beauty_..." 

~

They lay spent in the bed, orgasms so filling and complete that John saw stars and felt an over-flow of love consume his heart. Their bodies were coated in sweat and come and the room lingered in the sweet scent. John snuggled closer, wrapping his arm around his lovers waist. "You are _brilliant_." 

Sherlock smiled, turning his head to plant a kiss on John's head. "Not so bad yourself." 

"I guess this is it then, I'm your _lover_."

"You're John Watson, my gardener and my heart." 

John smiled, pressing his cheek into the juncture of Sherlock's neck and planting a light kiss. "Sounds nice."

Sherlock hummed in response and John's eyes fluttered closed. 

"John." 

"Yea?" He mumbled sleepily.

"About that garden..."

**Author's Note:**

> Debating whether or not to make this a mini series or to just leave it off here, let me know what you think in the comments :)
> 
> Comments & Kudos are always appreciated <3


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